Infected Scar Rewrite
by Sloth45
Summary: Voldemort thought he was being poetic- He wouldn't know he'd made a huge mistake for many, many years. ((Dead fic- This crossover requires more skill then I have to do correctly. As such, it'll have to wait for a re-write when I'm better at it.))
1. Chapter 1

It was dark, and he was nearly done.

He had set a fire downstairs, one to burn for three days- Cursed flame, green and greedy, ravenous. This safe haven for the potters would be left a ruin.

He'd killed James- Of course he had, as the fool wouldn't just stand down. He'd never expected anything else.

He'd killed Lily- He had hoped she would be more sensible- He himself would gladly trade the life of a child, if it meant he would survive. But instead she had refused to give him up, and he had struck her down.

And now, he stood over their child. Harry Potter. The ultimate threat to his power, as guided by Prophecy. In his hand, the one not training his wand on the child, he held a single vial.

He had thought that he might simply kill the boy with his favored curse, but a death eater had come forward, seeking favor… Normally, they were fools, and he struck them down for daring to think they knew better then he. But this one… He had quite the gift.

A virus. A magical super-virus from deep within the Department of Mysteries. He thought it a fitting end for Harry Potter- A half-blood, brought down by disease like so many others not worthy of Magic, and yet dominated, destroyed by magic. It was poetic, in it's own way.

He cast down the vial, shattering it with a spell above the babe, who cried as the cloud of sickness took hold. This is how the boy's corpse would be found- Sick. Infested. Just as mudbloods really were, on the inside.

He raised his wand. The last thing he saw before he died was the green light of death he'd summoned so many times, and nothing more.

(A/N: Hey there! Now, I don't usually do authors notes, but I've already started writing the first actual chapter of the re-write. It'll be taking an entirely different direction and actually be thought out this time, hopefully with better characterization. I've set up a small poll on my profile, but here are some questions I'd like feedback on!

In the next chapter, Harry will be disguised as Dudley. Some wizard, likely Dumbledore, will meet him- But would Dumbledore be able to see through a Prototype's disguise? Or would the story be better if Dumbledore was somehow unaware and sending 'dudley' instead of Harry through hogwarts?

Secondly, later on in the story, should Harry be able to absorb Deathly Hallows (Cloak, Wand) and use them as abilities? The stone isn't close enough to bio-mass, most likely, and I think the magic of the items might let him, due to the Potter's linage, but I'm not sure if this would render him even more overpowered then usual.)


	2. Chapter 2

(A/N: Thanks for reviews! They've been helpful, and I'll briefly answer questions asked: He'll go as Harry (the Dudley angle probably would not have been fun to read), and it's unlikely Prototype characters will show up- Unlikely, but possible, should there be a need. Now, onto the story.)

It was dark, and Dudley Dursley raised his head above the covers, smiling.

Dudley's life had always been fantastic, though until one fateful day in an alley he'd often not appreciated just what he had. It was certainly nothing like the life Harry Potter had.

Harry Potter had lived in a cupboard under the stairs. He was treated like an animal, raised like an animal- And it didn't take him long to become one. A thinking animal, perhaps, cunning, but still putting up only a facade- To survive. Everything Harry Potter had done since he was one was to survive.

For Dudley and Harry both, it was the best day of their lives when Harry Potter died.

Dudley was a bully- And Harry was his favorite target. He'd cornered him in an alley, all alone- He was frequently flanked by his peers, his fellow bullies, but not then. He lunged forward to beat on the defenseless five year old-

And Harry Potter had split open and consumed him.

On that day, Dudley Dursley died, and Harry Potter lived.

On that day, Harry Potter died, and Dudley Dursley lived.

When he'd consumed Dudley, he became him- His memories, his form… His place. Harry was starved in the dark. Dudley was given everything he wanted in life with the barest of efforts.

As he looked down at his hands- Arms no longer thin and wispy, but fat and nearly sagging- He knew immediately that he didn't want to be Harry Potter anymore.

All of that, though, was a long time ago. Years. It had been so very easy to take Dudley's place- He simply told Dudley's parents- His parents, now- That ickle Harry had run away. Mimicking Dudley's stupid tones was easy for Harry even without a lifetime of Dudley's memories, and having his voice made the impression flawless.

The Dursleys, for their part, were ecstatic. Finally, the brat was gone, and no one could blame them for it! He was always disturbed in the head, they'd tell anyone who asked. No real surprise he ran away- Probably tried to live in the woods, the nut.

The Dursleys were very good at convincing people they were normal people, model citizens, and so any questions quickly stopped. Dudley was quite happy with this- After spending years in that closet, slaving away as personal servant… It was good to be someone new.

Everything in his life was perfect up until a letter addressed to Dudley Dursley arrived from a place called Hogwarts.

Thankfully, the Dursley family settled that right out. He hadn't even had to whine at his parents- Formerly his aunt and uncle, in his previous life- As he had 'grown up' and stopped whining and being so stupid. He'd done so slowly, carefully enough that the Dursleys would be proud and not suspicious. It had paid off.

No one answering to the name Dursley wanted anything to do with Hogwarts- Petunia was fearful, Vernon was angry they'd dare try to involve his son in such 'freakishness', after Petunia had words with him, and Dudley was ignorant of this 'Hogwarts', but knew it would be taking him away from the excessively comfortable and lavish life he had with no visible benefit, and so he found himself utterly uninterested.

As it happened, however, this letter arrived to Dudley Dursley because nobody answering to the name or living the life of Harry Potter had been there for years, even though there very much should have been a single Harry Potter heading off to Hogwarts soon, one who also should have shown up on the mailing list as living at the Dursley Home- But he hadn't shown up at all.

This made a man with an exceptionally long beard worried. So worried, in fact, that he decided to delegate his tasks for the day to his Deputy Headmistress so he could to the bottom of this himself.

Everything in Dudley's life had been great ever since the alley, right up until today.

Today was the day an old man wearing something intensely eccentric showed up on the Dursley household, and politely insisted that he be allowed in. The Dursleys very much scowled at the man, but they couldn't toss him out on the street in his robes- Robes in a deep navy blue with pink stars dotting it, at that, not even a respectable sort of monk's robe- as the neighbors had already seen him come up to the door, and it would be rude to refuse him.

'Dudley' himself didn't especially care what he dressed like, unlike the elder Dursleys, but found himself wary. This was new. Not the comforting kind of new, like predictable presents and generosity from his family, but a strange kind- A potentially dangerous kind. It set his instincts on edge, even as young as he was.

His distrust in the strange man sharply increased when he took a moment to examine the boy, his eyes seeming piecing over half-moon glasses- Before he gently, but firmly, set a hand on his shoulder, and informed his 'parents' that he would be taking Dudley to speak quietly, just for a moment.

He made to protest, but when he looked back to Petunia and Vernon, their gazes seemed… off. Half lidded, not paying attention, murmuring vague acknowledgments. His wariness of the old man increased sharply as he was lead off to the kitchen.

Once in a secluded spot, one hand still firmly on his shoulder, Albus Dumbledore looked down at the child before him.

"You're not Dudley Dursley."

The accusation was quiet, but he still scowled at it. He couldn't tell how he'd been identified- A small part of his mind suggested it might be his instincts. He'd been trying to hide how off-putting the man was to him- Making him wary, but not afraid, muscles tensed to act instead of acting like the fat (Though slowly thinning) boy that he was. It had never been an issue, convincing the Dursleys- They were blind to anything not 'normal' by their own choice.

The man's grip- Albus, Dudley vaguely recognized, as he'd introduced himself earlier, not that he'd been paying attention to his words- Tightened on his shoulder. He used his free hand to withdraw a pointed stick from his robe's pocket.

It didn't look dangerous.

'Dudley' knew very well there things didn't have to look dangerous to be very dangerous indeed.

"If you do not revert to your true form, I am afraid I will have to do it for you." stated Albus. He was unfailingly polite, but there was a look in his eyes- A sort of iron will, as if this kitchen was a battlefield, and he had his eyes firmly set on a potential enemy. The disguised child might have wondered what he'd been through to act like this, if he wasn't so busy with far more pressing issues.

His scowl deepened further, but reluctantly he shifted back- He didn't want to blow his cover, but he wanted to feel whatever weapon it was the man wielded even less.

As his transformation shifted back, though, the man nearly dropped his weapon in surprise.

"Harry potter…?"

He'd learned quite a few interesting things that night.

Foremost, he was a wizard.

Secondly, he was a "Metamorphmagus". This, Dudley- Harry- Highly doubted. He was able to change long before he was a 'wizard', and it definitely wasn't related to whatever magic he would learn, as far as he thought. But the old man- The wizard- Had an explanation that he believed, and Harry would do nothing to disabuse him of this notion.

Harry. He was Harry Potter once more.

He wasn't sure he liked being Harry Potter. He'd much preferred being Dudley Dursley. He sullenly stated as much to the man who'd ruined his good life, who was very much confused about why.

Albus Dumbledore asked why Harry Potter wouldn't want to be Harry Potter.

He didn't like the answers he got. If he were any less controlled in his old age, his wand would be spitting sparks in anger. But, he had an idea. The blood wards would still be in place. Harry Potter wasn't safe.

But Dudley Dursley was.

The wizard carefully laid out an idea for Harry to think over. Harry didn't fully trust the man- He'd presented himself as an ally, but he'd never had such a thing, as far as he could remember. But, as he listened, even he had to agree it seemed like a good plan.

Harry Potter would go to Hogwarts. And Dudley Dursley would be at a boarding school in Scotland… At least, so far as the Dursleys believed. The man- Dumbledore, as he'd finally caught his land name- exuded much displease at the name, to put it lightly, but mostly kept the depths of his feelings hidden away.

Harry wasn't so sure such a plan would work, as Vernon had been set on sending Dudley to Smeltings- His own former school. This lasted until he remembered the dazed expressions the Dursleys had when a strange man had led their only child off to a secluded place without protest.

He had to feeling Dumbledore would be able manage such a plan. He was unaware of wizard law- Being that the desires of wizards would be so much higher then that of Muggles that confounding a couple now and again wasn't a real legal issue- But he did protest that he didn't even know anything about Hogwarts, much less that he wanted to go there.

Albus explained. There were quite a few points he went over in his efforts to convince Harry, such as the fact that all wizards in England went there if they cold, that his parents had gone there and left him quite a sum of funds so that he would be able to attend without worry, and that he'd be able to master his magic and make friends his own age-

But Harry had latched onto one fact in particular.

He would be learning magic. Getting stronger. More dangerous. He didn't want to get stronger in order to hurt people… He may have been somewhat different from spending his formative years locked in a cupboard under the stairs and slaving away as a servant, but he wasn't cruel. No, his reasons were much simpler.

The more dangerous he was, the less anyone would dare try to hurt him. Try to put him back where he was- Trapped in small, dark places, hit if he disobeyed or didn't work fast enough.

He would never be so weak again.

And while he mused, the sharp eyes of Albus Dumbledore eyed the orphan with a dark upbringing in front of him, and wondered what kind of terrible mistake he'd repeated.

Gringotts was interesting. Harry considered consuming a goblin, just to see what it would be like to be one, the same way he had Dudley, but ultimately there was no real gain to it, he was supervised, and he didn't really want to kill without purpose.

Even he knew that was a bad thing to do.

He'd had his enchanted bag full of money- Gringotts made, with plentiful anti-theft charms, included for being such an important client (For a small fee, of course), and now it was time to shop.

Albus had already taken the day off, so he was free to guide Harry around and help him with his purchases- Though Harry suspected he was also trying to sell him on the wizarding world as well. He was going to get free things of interest out of it, so he was content to follow along, for now.

The first purchases weren't that interesting- Books. Cauldron. A trunk. There was a pet store, and he curiously peered inside at the animals, but ultimately decided he didn't want to risk consuming something that would fight back in such a public place, even for something cool like talons or sharp fangs.

But the very best part of the trip was getting a wand, for sure.

"But it's brother… It's brother gave you that very scar."

Both he and Dumbledore had two very different reactions.

Dumbledore seemed very saddened by something about the wand and the similarities between Harry's wand and it's brother, and was distracted by this inner reflection.

Harry had found out there was someone out there who had hurt him, and tried very hard to kill him. He felt very inclined to find a way to prevent this from happening again.

They had almost left when Harry spotted something very appealing… A dragonhide wand holster. It was high quality, meant only for duelists, but Ollivanders was a very high quality shop.

Albus had argued that he didn't need such a thing- Harry stated simply it was his own money, from his own family, and he could buy it if he wanted. Dumbledore seemed unhappy about it, and was about to protest further before his eyes slid to Harry's wand.

They left without further incident, Harry sliding both purchases into his 'pocket'… Quietly consuming them in the dark fold where no one could see.


	3. Chapter 3

As it was, Harry Potter actually did not know about the magic-resistant, near invulnerable qualities of dragonhide.

In actually, it simply looked like cool biomass that he wanted. In the end, he was still eleven, in most ways.

He was content to admire the holster, recreated from his own bio-mass, now, as it was 'attached' to where it was meant to go. In his hand, he held his wand, also consumed. Wood and feather. Organic. There was no reason not to do so, and so he did- He was simply pragmatic like that.

He felt a certain connection to it, when it was recreated in his hand, and he didn't quite understand it yet. It added a secondary bonus that he could not be disarmed, so long as he existed in enough pieces to have biomass. If it ever came down to an injury of that level, he doubted losing his magic wand would be the least of his worries.

He wasn't alone- There was a red-headed boy who seemed slightly sullen as Harry admired his fancy holster. Harry was comfortable with silence, and so hadn't really done his best to keep conversation, and accordingly, the other boy hadn't quite realized who he was, yet, and didn't seem quite so keen on the silence.

The other young wizard had certainly made an attempt to be social, of course, but Harry wasn't extremely outgoing. And he was Harry, now- No longer Dudley Dursley. Already, he was starting to miss his quiet life of being catered to. In another set of circumstances, he might have been excited to learn magic.

As it was…

...Well, he'd learned quite a few things about his nature, once he had all the free time he desired. He doubted magic would be so much better so as to disrupt his entire life. And yet… In this world, he was expected to be able to do magic. To be able to defend himself with magic.

But he was also a target, and a well known name- Everyone seemed to recognize him. Something instinctive inside him hated being so- Exposed, to the world. Known, with threats he couldn't see.

Normal kids his age wouldn't think like this. He wasn't exactly normal, in quite a few different ways…

He was broken from his musing by a girl coming in looking for a toad.

He sat in his bed, items packed away, and mused on how the night had gone.

He'd helped the girl find her toad- It didn't greatly inconvenience him, so why not? He didn't mind helping other people… In fact, he somewhat liked doing so. The only problem was it also warred with his cautious inner nature and honed self-preservation. Anything that could threaten to reveal him could not be tolerated.

He was young, but even he knew people didn't react well to dangerous unknowns. He doubted wizards were any better about it.

The boat ride wasn't really worth reflecting on, but the sorting… In the end, there was no real contest:

He was brave, but not foolhardy. He'd step up if absolutely required, and keep his head down if he could. This didn't seem to be the spirit of Gryffindor, and he was deemed unsuited.

He was fairly aware for his age- Not quite wise, but very attuned to things that set off his mental alarms about danger and threats. He would gladly accept knowledge that would aid him, but he didn't seek wisdom for wisdom's sake, nor did he want to read dusty old tomes that wouldn't be relevant to anything, hundreds of years after they were written. He was definitely not cut out for Ravenclaw.

Hufflepuff was about camaraderie and connecting with your fellow housemates… Loyalty. In his first life, he was hunted and bullied, kept as a slave and hit if he failed to complete tasks he couldn't do. In his second, he'd taken the mask of a bully, and when he slowly directed himself away from that, he found Dudley's friends to be very flaky indeed.

There wasn't exactly a lot in his experience to inspire loyalty to anyone who hadn't well and truly proven themselves… And perhaps not even then. There was simply no way Harry Potter could ever go to Hufflepuff.

That left one house.

There was one thing Harry Potter was suited for, and that was ambition. His ambition was to become strong enough to never have to hide again… Never have to fight again, because his enemies would be gone or not suicidal enough to risk being his enemies. In short, Harry Potter wanted a peaceful life.

And he was more then willing to lie with the snakes to get it.

He paused in his inner reflections, and peered out of his bed- He wasn't sure what these kinds of beds were called, but they had privacy curtains installed, and he was very grateful for it. His trunk was still at the foot of it- There were some supplies he couldn't absorb, either because they weren't made of Biomass, or because it would be extremely obvious if he was physically incapable of putting down his books.

It was also something of a test. At the welcoming feast, he'd picked up a few interesting facts.

For example, Harry Potter Was Not Supposed To Be A Slytherin. It simply seemed to be a fact that everyone around him already knew. If anything, people seemed surprised (And made audible comments about) the fact he hadn't gone to Gryffindor.

So busy with trying to seek new information about his situation, Harry entirely missed Dumbledore's reaction to the news.

He was somewhat frustrated he couldn't just consume a random student and absorb their memories and skill-sets, but this place was crowded and public- People would be noticed if they went missing. Thankfully, people seemed fully willing to oblige Harry Potter… In the right circles, at least. They seemed to be more in love with the name and the legend then actually paying attention to what Harry really seemed to be.

One of the reasons that Harry Potter Was Not Supposed To Be A Slytherin, though, was that Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord. And the Dark Lord was a Slytherin, and so were all of his followers.

So he was now in the den of the enemy. No one would dare move against him now… Not on the first day. The Slytherin creed was to be cunning and ambitious.

Their ambition would be to see him dead, he suspected, and they would be cunning enough to make it seem an accident. So he made sure to make the right first impression.

After the feast, all the first years had been led off to their common rooms. He'd been just about done with putting his trunk into place when the Slytherins, standing as one group, called his name, obviously about to intimidate him. He only recognized one of them, vaguely… Blond hair. Saw while shopping. No one of importance.

Before they could start, though, he carefully closed his trunk.

Turned around.

And smiled.

It was not a nice smile. It was not the kind of smile an easily frighted and pliable child might make.

It was the kind of smile that said "I know exactly what you're up to, and I won't hesitate to destroy you as soon as we meet somewhere quiet."

Being slytherins, most of them had the experience and family background to take the hint. Except for that vaguely familiar first-year, but he was quickly led off by quietly hissing older years with better senses of self preservation.

He shook his head. He was getting lost in ruminations today- It had been happening a fair amount, ever since entering a new world. So much to reflect on. So much new information, and not the kind he could just absorb.

He slipped back into his bed, curtains pulled closed, and grinned. Perhaps there would be something interesting about this year after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry had just discovered something very interesting indeed: Pheonixes were immortal and could not be put down.

Well, they could be killed, but they just revived as a chick. And while that wasn't precisely ideal, it was very interesting for one specific reason:

Harry's absorbed wand had had a pheonix feather core.

...Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be enough. Harry had, of course, experimented with his powers when he was younger- Before he took the guise of Dudley Dursley. He needed a certain amount of an animal to really absorb it's traits- It had to be whole enough, intact enough. At least, in his experience.

And it could be an animal, not a person. Unfortunately, the kind of thing he could test with as a child- Squirrels, primarily, and very rarely the occasional bird- did not exactly have any really interesting adaptations for him to use.

But the magical world… It had a lot of potential. So many interesting creatures. Of course, stuck in 'the finest magical school in Britain' as the most universally recognized British wizard alive, it was unlikely he was going to encounter any interesting magical creatures soon. What would the odds of that be?

Harry peered up from his tomb on magical creatures, and looked around- At the moment, he was in the library. Being in the Slytherin dorm was probably not a wise move until he'd really managed to put the fear of- Well, him- Into his fellow snakes, as they might work up the courage to start something as one. It would be better to let them approach one by one… So he could 'deter' them in ways that didn't leave any evidence.

He liked spending time in the library- He wasn't bothered too much, as the librarian was strict enough to chase off anyone who tried to talk to him due to the fact that they were being too loud. He didn't like knowledge for it's own sake, much as the talking hat that Sorted him had agreed- But these books gave him options. Possibilities. Power to be gained for his ambition.

Of course, it still got him odd looks from people who didn't believe Harry Potter the Slytherin was spending his time like a Ravenclaw, but he ignored them as irrelevant.

It also helped him with his homework, which he actually did have to try to study for, as he couldn't just eat an older student and consume their memories of what life was like in the wizarding world.

At least, not yet. Not until he had a better understanding of this place, who could go missing, who wasn't important enough… It would probably be a Slytherin, in the end, or otherwise an enemy of his. He had this niggling reluctance to consume 'good people', for whatever reason- Not enough to prevent him from doing so, if he had to, but enough to let him be patient for 'better' opportunities.

And thinking on his homework… Class had been interesting. Transfiguration was a matter of both skill and power. Harry seemed to have quite the affinity for changing shapes, forms, and functions, imagine that…

Astronomy was boring. The stars were… Okay, he supposed, but the fact it was a mandatory class for first years confused him. Was there some sort of special magic relating to the night sky they would need to graduate that hadn't been mentioned?

Herbology was promising. So many magical plants with so many magical abilities… Hopefully, he'd find one complex enough to consume… If he could sneak it out of the greenhouse undetected, of course. That would be it's own problem.

Charms was interesting, but in a different way to transfiguration. It seemed to be the most general branch of magic… Useful. If he was clever enough, he was sure he could use general magic for specific tactical purposes… Of course, he didn't know WHAT kind of tactics he would need in a magical school…

...But it gave him something to think about in History Of Magic, which was completely and utterly boring. There was nothing of any real note there- He was fairly sure he would just start skipping the class soon. Professor Binns had been dead too long to notice, it seemed…

Defense Against The Dark Arts, Harry had been very excited for. After all, defense promised the power to repel your attacker… Possibly for good. Unfortunately, the lessons were something of a joke, all textbook-reading. The teacher seemed utterly pathetic…. But there was something about the turbaned man that put Harry on edge. He couldn't quite identify it, but he always felt himself tense whenever the man entered lunging distance…

And then, of course, there was potions.

Potions class was… Different. Harry was still slowly getting used to his notoriety/fame in the wizarding world, and Professor Snape made it immediately clear that he saw Harry as an enemy. Harry, for his part, immediately placed the professor in the same mental category of the Death Eaters- Hostiles who knew of him when he knew so little of them.

Still, Snape was useful in some respects as a teacher, though not in the most traditional of ways. The man said there was "A subtle science and exact art" in potion making, and there was something of an art to it. He didn't quite understand it, but a large enough part of it was simply genuine care and attention to the potion you were doing, along with a small feed of magic.

The first part, he was able to mostly emulate just by watching Snape when he occasionally got frustrated with a student and did a step for them- Namely for the Slytherin, he noted- And the second he'd simply decided to try, because Potions was a magical art and thus adding more magic seemed like a basic first start. There was more to it then this, of course, but he did well enough following the instructions.

Snape watched him like a hawk whenever he wasn't doing his job- Insofar as he actually did it, of course- And Harry had been determined to ignore him for the most part. He hadn't quite confronted him, likely due to the fact that Snape was actually Harry's head of house, but he'd made his opinion on that incidental fact very clear through his hostile glares and near-silent muttering.

After that, there was a broom-flying lesson. Brooms were a primary way of travel in the wizarding world (Flying carpets had been banned for some inane reason, he'd later find out), and they were also fairly dangerous- A first year could fly sixty feet in the air and fall off, if they weren't careful. It did make sense to teach them early…

Though it made Harry look at his broom and wish he could try absorbing it to gain true magical flight, though he highly doubted his powers would actually work that way.

All in all, though, his classes had been… Fine. A lot of the information he couldn't see himself needing- It was entirely probable he wouldn't have to work a day in his life, if he decided to actually invest any reasonable portion of the gold available to him just in his vault alone- But some of it was very interesting indeed.

Of course, it wouldn't be too long until at least one young snake decided to make an unwise move and try to corner him somewhere. Harry only wondered who would be so foolish to make the first move...


	5. Chapter 5

Unsurprisingly, it was Malfoy.

He was very visibly the least subtle, least wise, least clever Slytherin in his year, and possibly the entire house. Harry wasn't even sure he had ambition, either, since all of the 'power' he used for trying to get his way was to refer to his father, instead.

At the time, Harry had been in the library, reading about potions. Potions was a very interesting subject for many reasons, despite the horrible teacher, and there were a few reasons in particular that interested him:

One was that the ingredients list pointed out interesting magical animals, and hinted at their abilities. If he could ever get a few months to himself, he'd love to track them down… Get a more whole, intact sample then just feathers or claws...

Then again, the effort there would be trying to find privacy when there were doubtlessly Big Players who would be keeping an eye on the only child to survive a curse that killed all living targets it hit without fail. He was only sure of one of these Big Players, namely the Death Eaters, but he assumed there would be others.

And the other, of course, was what potions did. The effect potions could have… Powerful effects that one would have to be highly skilled and take much more magical power to manage with a spell could be done by any wizard who could manage the instructions properly, as far as he could tell.

Polyjuice in particular amused him, though with the limited selection of books he could access, as a first year, he only found passing notes and references without any real recipies. It was good such information was restricted- No one would ever suspect someone so young being able to brew it, and thus make such a convincing disguise.

Good for his purposes, anyway. It also helped he was irritatingly good at Potions, for some reason, even with Snape actively attempting to sabotage him in subtle ways.

It was around this point that Malfoy came in. He quietly managed to challenge Harry to a duel at midnight in a trophy room Hogwarts had. Harry simply stated that it would be a one sided battle, and at that point Draco had raised his voice loud enough to attempt to intimidate him in reply he was swiftly escorted from the library by Madam Pince.

Harry was starting to grow fond of that woman.

Still… A midnight duel. He expected someone from his house to challenge him, of course, being that 'everyone knew' they were all death eater sympathizers or worse. A nest of snakes indeed, as far as Harry was concerned. And Draco was probably going to challenge him for some reason or another eventually- He wasn't very patient for a Slytherin.

A duel at a time where no one would be awake with perfect plausible deniability and a perfect excuse to get rid of an obvious hostile. Harry grinned- Perfect.

The problem, as usual in Hogwarts, was stealth.

Magical power would never be a problem- He could simply consume someone- Or, perhaps something magical, he'd not tried- And absorb more. But a perfect target never appeared, nor an ideal time or place.

The portraits hung on the walls, watching, listening. He couldn't risk using anything but the subtlest uses of his powers possible where they hung.

As it happened, though, portraits did NOT hang on the outside of the castle walls, and there were plenty of windows, giving Harry access. He could easily scale horizontally, and run vertically up and down the walls. He'd have to work on managing to run sideways. It was a stealthy approach, but not a fast one. It was, however, ironically one of the more reliable ones, with the temperamental stairs that moved, and doors that went to different rooms and corridors depending on the day of the week.

It didn't take Harry long to reach the trophy room… Which was empty. He had to admit, he was impressed- He'd thought Draco would actually be stupid enough to actually try it. But, according to his highly-tuned sense of hearing, he could hear the caretaker coming along to apprehend him, tipped off by Draco. And, apparently, he'd brought his cat, as he usually did.

Interesting. It seemed the young Malfoy could be a little cunning after all. He could go back the way he came, but he decided he might as well go do a bit of exploring.

He silently padded off, footsteps making no sound, and easily dodged detection from the sour janitor as he passed.

Hogwarts really did have an exceptional amount of hidden passageways and shortcuts. It was really quite interesting.

More interesting then that, was that he'd found the forbidden zone mentioned by the teachers at the start of the year. Apparently, it was forbidden by pain of terrible, excruciating death that lurked inside.

So obviously, Harry had to have a look. Security was completely and utterly pathetic- There weren't even any spells on the door, merely a simple mechanical lock.

Harry pressed his hand to the handle, biomass shifting and pressing inside… After a few moments, he withdrew it, bone forming between his finger and thumb. Bone perfectly shaped like a key, molded from the inside of the lock.

Harry really hoped wizards were so stupid as to only have anti-theft spells based around magic and not physical intrusion. That would make his life so much easier if it were true.

He let the key rejoin his hand as biomass, and opened the door.

…

After a few moments, he closed the door.

What a wonderful target to consume later.

But, doubtlessly, the great three headed canine was put there for a reason, and would almost certainly be missed if it went missing behind a 'locked' door this early in the year.

It was certainly something to bear in mind for the end of the year, though…


	6. Chapter 6

Halloween was good.

He learned how to levitate objects with magic, though he still thought his innate ability to glide was better- Of course, now he had something of an excuse to glide. Even better, the magical version didn't give off the unusual red particles his ability did. That would require practice to master, though, but thankfully that wasn't a problem- He could just leap off of the castle over and over until he got it. If his magical levitation didn't work, he could just switch to his natural version.

The other classes, unfortunately, weren't as interesting. But later on, there was something that was: A Halloween feast.

As it happened, Harry couldn't exactly go around eating people for biomass. But food- The kind people ate, not him eating people as food- Also counted as biomass, even if it was cooked. It wasn't nearly so useful as living biomass, but it still held all the building blocks- Nutrition- For him to construct it more naturally. He carefully made sure to keep his actions neutral, to keep people from noticing he never actually stopped eating.

It was later on in the feast when the least useful professor burst in shouting about how a dangerous magical creature was in the castle. By the time the professors had rounded up the students, Harry was already gone.

Thankfully, it hadn't been too hard to track down once he'd stumbled onto the right area- Even a normal eleven year old could have detected the stench it was giving off.

The good news- As he saw it- Was that there was a huge troll in, of all places, a lady's bathroom. It was obviously very strong, possibly stronger then even his natural strength- Probably, even, as his form was constricted to that of a child- According to all the smashed stalls, doors, and sinks.

Furthermore, it had magically resistant skin, as he found from his previous research on potential consume targets- Or magical beasts, at least. It certainly wasn't the most spell-resistant creature out there, but it would be a nice benefit to have.

However, there was bad news. And that was there was a witness- Hermione Granger, a bushy haired witch. He didn't know that much about her, but judging by the destruction, it seemed she'd been dodging the troll's massive club. Neither had noticed him, but the troll was shuffling towards her.

Harry had a sudden realization he sort of cared that an innocent person was going to senselessly die. Strangely, there was a core part of him more offended about how she would die then why.

Senseless. Pointless. Waste of valuable potential resources.

The troll was almost on her, and Harry knew just what to do. As it raised it's club to smash her, he blurred forward and leaped onto it's back, grabbing hold around it's arm and pulling back against it with resistance. Not all the way… But enough.

The troll's club came down onto Hermione's head, and instead of smashing her skull to bits, she was instead knocked unconscious. Harry was sure- He could still see her breathing.

By then, it was practically over. A strong magical creature. No witnesses. He hopped down, muscles bulging as he channeled biomass into them to reinforce them, as well as shifting his mass to snatch the club from the troll, who simply looked down at him with a stupid grimace that reminded Harry of Dudley.

He looked to the massive weapon in his hands, then back to the troll, and grinned.

"This is mine now."

By the time the teachers came by, having finally located the troll, it was gone, leaving only Harry Potter heroically carrying an unconscious Gryffindor against his shoulder, visibly struggling to support her. He managed to keep his intense grinning on the inside.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry had found something of an unexpected ally in Hermione Granger.

It turned out being knocked unconscious from blunt trauma wasn't that hard to fix, in the wizarding world, and many young wizards got far more severe injuries treated overnight just from playing Quidditch. This, Harry discovered from Hermione after she came to thank him and was easily sidetracked by even the smallest of questions placed in front of her.

From this, Harry deduced, he'd probably like to have some other weapon against wizards. Viral-enhanced strength was fine, but something that cut or pierced would probably be better, it seemed. Magic was always an option… But wizards were inherently better at fighting with magic. No, best to hit them in a weak spot.

Hermione hadn't even stopped talking as Harry drifted off into his own thoughts about his ideas for the future, something he was grateful for- If she would be easy to distract, that made keeping the secret he wasn't exactly an ordinary child all the easier.

He didn't trust her, of course- He didn't trust anyone, and she'd not actually done anything to earn that trust. Well, that wasn't exactly true… She'd collaborated his story once awake in the hospital wing (The adults had deemed it an extremely rare case of accidental magic still manifesting after he'd gotten his wand, allowing him to slow down the troll), and she was acting very helpful.

Maybe more then helpful. Desperate. He'd seen her around- She spent more time in the library then he did, judging from how often she was already there when he arrived. Unlike him, who picked his books based on information he judged useful for potential future options, she seemed unable to _not_ take whatever text caught her interest, and often ended up with a huge pile of books at her table.

He absently assumed she was a Ravenclaw. After all, how could she NOT be?

But, Ravenclaw or not, it was clear books were the closet friends she had. He'd gotten the reason why she was in the bathroom with the troll, and it was obvious even to him that she was as alone as he'd been before taking the guise of his cousin. It still vaguely rankled to have such a perfect life swept away from him, but the benefits of being Harry Potter seemed to be stacking up…

Until he could find a way to ensure her silence, he wouldn't trust her, though. Or at least, ensure her loyalty. There had to be some way to do so- Either with magic, or with his abilities- But he'd never experimented with such things in the past, as he'd never had to. Something to look into…

At the time, though, he simply made his excuses and left. He had a feeling she'd be persistent in her attempts to aid, though…

After that, not much of interest happened. He became rather annoyingly good at potions, due to his interest in the subject, and found he had something of a natural affinity to it. This infuriated the sour teacher to no end, which wasn't helped when he showed up to class one day with a limp.

There were a number of ways he could have gotten it- Potions accident, secret life as a quidditch star, spending time in the forbidden Forrest looking for ingredients and being attacked by one of the many interesting beasts inside (Harry fully intended to make time to head inside one night and see what he could find), or possibly an encounter with the Cerberus on the third floor.

But as it happened, Harry simply didn't care enough about what the greasy man did with his spare time enough to look into it.

His other classes, he mostly passed in, not having anything else to spend his time on. History was exceptionally boring, but even it had the occasional use, and he at least tried to pay attention whenever a new species was brought up- From the many, many goblin rebellions (Which Harry had read between the lines to assume succeeded, or otherwise wizards wouldn't let them hoard all of their money), to legislation regarding proper men-person habitation and zoning laws, and so on.

Everything else was so relatively uninteresting- Designed to teach first years the basics of their courses, and to teach them fundamentals of casting magic more then anything else, as far as he could tell- That the only really interesting thing came towards Christmas.

Harry watched the burly fifth year sail across the room and hit a wall with mild interest.

As it happened, students were in fact allowed to cast protection spells and wards over their belongings, within reason and regulation. That had been one of the regulation spells… Significantly overpowered, since Harry added magic to it every night, as he had no ward-stone to anchor something more permanent down.

Said student would go off to cry to their head of house- Snape- And probably be told that Harry had technically done nothing wrong, same as the last three people who'd tried to sabotage his bed since the start of term. Draco had been either the first or the second, he didn't remember.

He pulled the curtains closed around his bed, and looked over the christmas present he'd gotten with interest. The other student was trying to sabotage him on general principal, but if he'd seen the note, Harry was sure he'd be far more interested in it: An invisibility cloak.

Harry, however, frowned at it. Invisibility cloaks were woven from Demiguise hair, and faded with age- The main reason he'd known about them was his research into magical creatures. He fully intended to consume a demiguise at some point.

This cloak, on the other hand, was made from kind of shining, silvery cloth, instead, and the note implied it had belonged to his father- James Potter. After that kind of age, a regular invisibility cloak would probably only make the wearer half transparent instead of invisible.

So what was it?

He reached out a hand to consume it, and stopped. It certainly acted like an invisibility cloak, but it wasn't a regular one, and as a matter of fact he had no idea what he'd be inviting into his body if he did consume it. He'd have to find some kind of… magical artifact specialist. Maybe he'd ask the charms teacher first.

Until then, he'd carry it on him. As it happened, he had some very, very deep pockets in his 'robes'…

He put it to good use.

He had, unfortunately, not brought it to Professor Flitwick, and the reason was simple: Invisibility cloaks were almost certainly against the rules for first years to possess, and he didn't want to give away an advantage he might have, if it was indeed an advantaged and not, say, cursed. For all he knew, a particularly cunning elder snake might have gifted it to him.

So, he tried it out, using it as sparingly as possible and trying to stay tuned to any negative side effects. Some things were worth a level of risk, and invisibility was one of them, though Harry felt he'd still prefer to consume a Demiguise.

There was something inside him hungry for a living source of power.

However, with the option open to him, he decided to set off to the library. The restricted section wouldn't be guarded so late at night…

Or so he'd thought. The books themselves were spelled- They screamed when he tried to read them without proper permission. He had no choice but to don the cloak and escape- And change course when teachers came to investigate, so that he wouldn't collide with them.

One benefit did come from the brief setback, though: He found a mirror. A very interesting mirror.

Well, interesting for a few moments, at least. After gazing into it for a few seconds, Harry turned around and left.

He already knew his greatest ambitions, of course. He didn't need some sort of enchanted furniture to tell him how to consume the most interesting magical creatures and murder all his potential enemies.

He went back to bed, and enjoyed a few peaceful days of study before Hermione Granger sought him out again about some kind of plot involving the third corridor, and some kind of stone that Dumbledore had hidden there.


	8. Chapter 8

Hermione had discovered the Cerberus one day when her curiosity had overwhelmed her common sense, and deduced it was guarding something. Eventually, she had decided it must have been placed there by Dumbledore (As no other would have the ability to seal off an entire wing of the school for it), and researched what sort of incredible magical artifacts the headmaster was connected to, and thus might be what was hidden.

This, apparently, lead her to to the Philosopher's stone, who she was certain Snape was after. She gave all of this exposition to Harry in a single breath, who just looked at her with a mixture of amusement and interest that she would say so much without stopping.

Harry was of the opinion she only suspected Snape because the man was such an obvious villain to everyone save most of his Slytherins, and had a habit of swooping around like he was up to no good.

He also had a feeling she'd only come to him because he'd saved her life, and was sick of being so alone, and so tried to involve him with something that would catch his interest.

It worked, of course. Harry was mostly interested in biological things, true, but he certainly wouldn't turn down eternal life and all the riches he could handle.

Not that he was certain he needed them, of course- He didn't know if his viral form actually could die of old age, and he could just keep eating wizards and emptying out their vaults. If the goblins in England got suspicious, well, Harry was certain wizards inhabited other parts of the world. Other places, with other banks…

Still, he wasn't just going to ignore such a treasure as the philosopher's stone. It would be better to have it and not need it then the other way around. He informed Hermione he would help 'protect' it, and she grew very excited indeed.

It didn't take long for Harry and Hermione to bump into the groundskeeper in the library. They hadn't gone to the library together- That's just where they both ended up spending their free time.

Hagrid had been friendly towards Harry (He had no idea why), but intensely suspicious about what he himself had been doing there. Hermione, being perceptive, shuffled off swiftly to the section he'd been loitering in and getting books from to find out what he'd been researching.

The answer was dragons, and Harry was very interested indeed. Harry had a peek at the books- According to another copy of Dragon Breeding for Pleasure And Profit (Probably only kept on the shelf for historical reasons, as it was now illegal save for licensed breeders, babbled Granger), dragons required a lot of care during their first few months.

They were also unable to breathe fire until six months old, or fly until twelve.

The book didn't mention if it would be difficult to kill at such a young age, but Harry assumed it wouldn't be. He very much hoped Hagrid had found a young one, if he was looking into books about them…

A few days later, they'd confirmed it. Harry and Hermione both went down to Hagrid's shack- Hermione wanted to ask An Adult about the protections around the Philosopher's Stone, worried, and Harry wanted to get answers about this possible dragon. If he did consume a young dragon, would he have to wait for his dragon-gained abilities to mature the same way the dragon would have matured if it lived? That, according to the library books, would take two years for most dragons, and Harry would prefer to have a spell-impervious coating of scales before then.

Hagrid brushed off their questions about 'Fluffy' and the stone, after showing surprise they even knew of it. Harry was still wondering why on earth he'd name the three headed dog Fluffy when he spotted the egg in the fire.

As Hermione interrogated Hagrid on the source of it, Harry was busy thinking of ways to take it for himself. But how?

In the end, it had proven surprisingly easy to part Hagrid from his dragon.

A few days after that, Harry received a note from Hagrid. Since he ate alone at the Slytherin table, he simply read it and slipped it into his 'robes' pocket, ignoring Malfoy's look of interest on who'd be sending him mail.

He debated on showing Hermione, but decided she didn't really have to know. The note said only this:

It's hatching.

So, after his first class for the day (Transfiguration), he went down to investigate.

By the time he'd gotten there, the dragon was halfway out of the egg. Harry had tried to reason with Hagrid to set it free- As he lived in a wooden house, something Hermione had remarked on- But it took another two days to convince him. In that time, the dragon had grown considerably, and Harry considered time to be a very important factor- He wanted the dragon kept at an easy to slay level.

But, in the end, Harry was able to convince him that he couldn't keep the dragon- That his house would burn down, that it was illegal and he would be discovered and the dragon taken away, that he'd never be able to feed it once it had grown and keep it secret…

Harry managed to convince Hagrid that, with no real options, such as a connection to a dragon breeder or something, the best option for Norbert was to set him free in the Forbidden Forrest. His bite would be poisonous in a few more days, and he'd be able to grow until he was noticed and escorted away from the forrest to live on a nice dragon preserve somewhere.

Harry, being such a brave and generous soul, told Hagrid he would escort Norbert (The dragon) into the forrest for him. Hagrid was too broken up over letting go of his precious Nobert to do it himself, but insisted that Harry at least take Fang to warn him of anything dangerous, and that he was to run away at the first sign of danger.

Harry carefully took the caged dragon out into the forbidden forrest, shooed the dog away (Quite easily, as it seemed to be a coward), then focused. Slowly, his left arm shifted, changed, becoming a copy of the heavy club that the troll on holloween had carried- Made of the hardest nerveless bone he could manage, Troll strength coursing through him and red particles drifting off from the club as he kept his mass shifted.

Nobert just looked up at him with beedy little eyes, wiggling in his cage. Harry wished he had a non-impact style weapon, something to cut, or pierce, but this would do- He'd have to find something better for an adult dragon. Something more… Devestating.

"Sorry, Norbert. No hard feelings."

He swung, with all of his enhanced strength.

It didn't even have time to shriek before it's lungs were crushed.

The next day, Harry told two people the dragon issue had been resolved. Harry had even been able to get back to the castle before curfew- With his inhuman speed, out on the grounds where nobody was able to see him, and the fact he could scale the walls and find an entrance closer to the common rooms then the usual ground floor.

Hagrid, of course, had been tearful, but sniffled out that Norbert would grow up into a fine young dragon with a good life somewhere he could be taken care of.

Hermione, when she'd heard, huffed at him and told him he'd been very stupid and it had been very dangerous, but ultimately it was obvious she was just relieved it was all over.

Harry couldn't stop grinning that entire day. There was a lot of nothing interesting during his year, that was for sure, but then it kept offering up such interesting creatures for him to sample...


	9. Chapter 9

Harry Potter was growing tired of all this cloak and dagger. Fortunately, the year would be over soon.

And he had a lot planned for the summer.

Weeks passed. Granger kept in contact with him, and one day, she came to him and told him that Professor Snape would be attempting to steal the Philosopher's stone that night.

Harry took that as as well an excuse as any to finally get some real exercise. He politely, but firmly, told Hermione he would take care of it.

Hermione wasn't taking any of that, unfortunately, and insisted that she come with him.

He clapped her on the back- And then shot a stunner out of his hand, from his integrated wand. She never saw it coming.

He liked reading about magical creatures in the library, he did, but if one knew his personality and thought he **hadn't** read up on the most useful combat spells, they would only be fooling themselves.

Harry stared at the slumbering Cerberus- Fluffy- With disappointment. The weakness of a Cerberus wasn't incredibly hidden, if you actually researched them- Hence why dragons made better guards, if you absolutely had to have a creature instead of a series of wards.

Harry had really, really been hoping to have something strong enough to take down Fluffy to consume him. But a beast of that size… Harry was strong, to be sure. But that was quite another level. He'd just have to hope there was something inside that would help him, and otherwise he'd have to give it up as a bad job, much as he'd hate to do so.

Fortunately, there was. He slipped down the trap door, and was soon wrapped up in constricting vines.

Harry took a deep breath, and imploded.

Consuming the Devil's Snare was easier then expected- It grasped, squeezed, but it's only means of defense was to put it's biomass near enough to Harry where his own feeder tendrils could snap out and tear off vines in chunks. The more the plant fought, the more he took, and the easier it was. Finally, he roared, slamming both hands into it and absorbing the mass- Too much mass. Critical mass.

Up above, Fluffy yawned, stretched out, and stood up above the trap door. Approximately three seconds later, a Devastating mass of Devil's Snare tendrils exploded from the trap door, formed of biomass with tips made of sharpened bone. The dog was far too large to pull through the trap door, so Harry had to reel himself up.

Harry had hoped for a good fight here- But apparently, what was effectively a stake through the chest took a lot of the fight out of the dog, and Harry spent the last of his extra mass performing it a second time, hitting something vital. He started to consume the monster, but unlike anything he'd ever consumed before, this time he fell to his knees and held his head, crying out. His head… His mind felt like it was fracturing-

He passed out.

He woke up with a start, sitting up with a gasp. A quick tempus told him he hadn't lost much time- Ten minutes. If it had been due to an injury or some kind of affliction, it might have been longer, but because it was part of him, adaptation…

There was something tickling at the edge of his mind, but he couldn't stop now. This trip had already been very, very valuable to him, and he wanted to see what was in store below.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a lot in the next few rooms. There was a room with a lot of winged keys and a locked door- Harry's lockpicking trick worked the same as it had opening the door to Fluffy. Harry had a sneaking suspicion these locks weren't actually meant to be secure in any way.

A room full of Chess pieces. He manifested Troll arms, and simply walked across the board, swatting away the animated stone pieces, who attacked too slowly for his viral reflexes.

The potions room proved to be more frustrating. This was a puzzle that couldn't be simply brute-forced, which was a pity, because Harry was starting to enjoy being able to simply smash obstacles out of the way, with no regard to the low profile he'd been keeping instead.

He wondered how much of the destruction he'd caused he could pin on Snape. The man was known to have a foul temper…

He glanced at the bottles. They were transparent. Two of them held the same color liquid within- That would be the nettle wine mentioned in a puzzle on a roll of paper nearby. A riddle. There was no way the stone was meant to be secured, if it WAS at the end of all this- Why leave a riddle? Why not conventional security?

Still, he hadn't been imitating a ravenclaw for nothing. He solved it soon enough, accepting the small potion and absorbing it through his biomass, letting it's magic take effect on his form as he stepped through the flames.

As it turned out, it wasn't Snape after all. But that hardly mattered. The obvious thief was standing in front of the mirror, muttering to himself. Harry silently rushed forward in a dash- By the time a voice started to scream from the back of his head, his punch sent the professor sailing across the room to land against the wall with a crunch and fall over, a burn mark in the shape of his fist appearing where he'd struck.

Quirrel was in no shape to defend himself when Harry matched over. He'd intended to consume him… But when he picked him up to start, he started to burn away at the contact, and instead he watched, facinated as his opponent started to burn away to ashes that swiftly turned insubstantial. He gave a mental shrug- He doubted he'd get something of use out of someone evidently so fragile.

He turned his back to walk back towards the mirror, then, and failed to notice an escaping wraith, silently cursing vengence.

He stood in front of the mirror. Now, how to deal with-

It was at that point that the headmaster arrived, wand in hand with a spell already lighting up the tip… A spell that burnt out when he saw what happened.

A most peculiar thing happened, then- As Dumbledore turned his sharp eyes to meet Harry's, he held his head as he suddenly felt that sudden pain from before- And then there was another mind 'above' his own, utterly empty.

Albus, for his part, was briefly confused, before he realized that the boy in front of him must have been a natural Occlumens. So, he had to go for the direct route. "I imagine you have many questions, Harry, but before that, I'm afraid my own are far more pressing. What, exactly, has happened here?"

Harry was still reeling from adapting instinctively against mental attack, and it took him a few moments to gather his thoughts. Fluffy and the snare were missing- They were biomass, and so he'd taken them, pushing him back into Critical Mass easily. Thankfully, that wasn't noticeable. He was confused- So he'd use that.

"I- Sir, Quirrel made me come down here- He seemed to think I would be able to make him give it to him, though I don't know what he wanted..."

Fortunately, the headmaster seemed to feel Harry was owned an explanation. He explained what (The Philosopher's Stone), how Quirrel could never get it (The mirror, and it's ability to read intent), and why he likely thought Harry would be able to do it for him (Using someone who wasn't after it to send it to the Dark Lord, and then killing Harry at the time. Dumbledore didn't explicitly say that, but he could tell that's what he meant.)

Harry glanced at the mirror. He wouldn't mind taking the stone, even if he probably wouldn't need it, but he'd want to keep it for himself- So the mirror wouldn't give it to him.

Unless he wasn't himself. He had an inkling of an idea, and staggered, a moment of disorientation-

He nearly fell over. It was obvious at least half a minute had passed, and Dumbledore looked concerned- But then, Harry looked down. The stone was in it. What…?

Before he could contemplate it, though, the headmaster beamed. "Ah, I suppose you did manage to get past the protections, didn't you? So, you wanted the stone, but not to use it for yourself. I have an idea as to why, but if you would like to confirm it…?" He looked expectant.

Harry sighed internally. It would have been nice… But, it was entirely likely he didn't have to age if he didn't feel like it, and didn't have to keep to the expectation of being a growing boy and all, and he could always just empty his Consume victim's bank accounts… "I… I guess I just wanted it to be safe, sir.", he 'confirmed', continuing his act.

The headmaster, though, seemed to be entirely willing to buy in, so long as Harry was showing him what he expected- Hoped to see. Soon, they were off. Dumbledore delivered Harry to the hospital wing, just to make certain he wasn't injured (And Harry made sure to keep his insides as human as possible during the visit, just in case), before he finally managed to make his excuses and slip away back to where he belonged.

It didn't take Harry long to puzzle out what had happened.

Especially as he could think three times as fast, now, if he felt like it.

The most valuable trait Fluffy had given him, beyond sharp teeth and a very large potential form he could take, if he ever had the biomass and frankly didn't give a toss, was that the beast was capable of maintaining and using three separate minds that worked in concert together at the same time.

And now, so could he.

He'd developed his second mind as a simple over-layer to defend against the headmaster's mental probe. Harry didn't have the library access required to know the exact details on what that was, but given as he'd formed a mental defense, he had to assume the old man had tried some sort of mental offense to trigger it.

As for the stone… Well, Harry had needed to think with his entire mind only on getting the stone, and he had a blank mind already primed for such dedication- He'd simply taken back seat for a moment.

He started to brainstorm furiously as he sat back in his bed, curtains pulled down. Summer would be far more interesting then he'd originally thought…

It was summer, now, and Dudley Dursley had returned to Privet Drive to enjoy a life of luxury.

At the same time, Harry Potter was enjoying his day off- Luring away pedophiles into dark alleys in Knockturn Alley with the guise of an innocent, ignorant child, sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl, then turning on them to Consume them, take their form, and head for Gringotts. He'd made quite a mint so far…

It had been trivial to spread himself like this. He already had two extra minds- All he needed, then, were two extra bodies to host them in. One of them- The one he was in now- Was the body of his first victim, transformed into his own. And the other…

He held out his arm. He didn't call- He didn't have to. An owl with glossy black feathers fell from the sky silently to land on his wrist, peering at him. Well, most students had an owl, and he figured it wouldn't hurt to acquire one… And so now, he had his eyes in the sky as well.

The owl's name, of course, was Zeus. Something about it felt appropriate.

As he pocketed the third wand today, Apparating 'home' as his latest consumed victim, a mister Dunson Cowl, to greet 'his' wife and clear out a few neat little trinkets that would be better off in Harry's hands, he grinned. The other Harry currently masquerading as Dudley could handle second year. As for this body, and his own spare set of hands…

Well, he heard Demiguise lived in the far east. He could buy a portkey… Or he could just keep eating people and absorbing magic until his Apparition was strong enough to send him anywhere not warded against it…

And that was just one of the skills the adult wizards had known. Knockturn would probably be out of pedophiles soon, but he could probably lure some pick-pockets next, or possibly prostitutes… Anyone who'd follow him somewhere nice and quiet. His targets had known of the Imperius curse, but not how to cast it…

Something to learn. Harry was going to have a very busy summer indeed.

(( Author's Note: This is where things jump off the rails entirely. The entirety of Prototype 1, from Mercer's escape to Firebreak happens in 18 days. Consider all the evolution the virus goes through- Both him, and Greene's forces. Hell, Mercer himself evolved spontaneously at times, like when he developed the armor after consuming the injected Hunter... Left unrestrained, this virus is going to evolve at incredible speed beyond it's former constraints… ))


End file.
